


Lost in Thought

by masterofmyfate



Series: Ensign Data [2]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Gen, I'll try and update this later, I'm a bit too tired to think of tags right now, hee hee sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:07:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27933589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masterofmyfate/pseuds/masterofmyfate
Summary: Follow-up to "The Newest Ensign". After the incident, Data starts work on some subroutines to get better at conversation--which ends up being a bit distracting. The Chief Engineer picks up on the fact that something's up.
Series: Ensign Data [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2045440
Comments: 15
Kudos: 19





	Lost in Thought

Though Data could adequately perform a variety of tasks and was capable of serving in nearly any position aboard the _USS Trieste_ , he found himself appreciating several aspects of his current station in engineering.

For one, his knowledge of probability mechanics found many applications as he worked to increase the ship’s efficiency and perfect its systems. The _Trieste_ reflected older models of research starship designs; functional, but geared toward local research and not for long-range travel.

Thus, there were several opportunities to refine its wiring for slight but beneficial modifications. Each time he presented the Chief Engineer, Lieutenant Payton, with a new proposal, the Lieutenant’s eyes would narrow and eyebrows tilt as she studied the adjustments. Then she would stuff the padd back into Data’s hands with a gruff, “…Fine, okay. Do it.” Seeing as Lieutenant Payton continually approved the proposed adjustments, Data inferred she was pleased with his contributions.

In addition, Data began developing a preference for engineering because it enabled him to observe his fellow crewmembers without causing them inconvenience.

It was a simple matter to listen to the variety of conversations in the room while he hovered almost out of sight, tucked into a corner by the warp chamber. The conversations ranged from accounts of meals recently consumed to speculation regarding the romantic status of various crewmembers. As practice, Data would silently attempt to envision what would be appropriate responses to each statement posed, attempting to predict what the participants of the conversation would say. To date, he had only succeeded twice in forming a likely sentence that had proven similar to what the other person had replied.

Often, people remarked on how quickly his hands could blur across the screen with pinpoint accuracy, or how many kilos of tritanium he could lift without the slightest sign of stress. Little did they know just how greatly he marveled at their innate ability to _converse_.

How easily humans could spend time with each other, with no apparent purpose apart from a mere desire for company. How strange the way their words danced with each other, obeying an unwritten set of rules, following an unheard rhythm, expressing unsaid thoughts and somehow _comprehending_ those silent messages. And then there were the metaphors, the jokes, the jargon…

“Need some help, Ensign?” came a wry, gruff voice from just behind him, causing him to flinch and recalibrate his sense of his surroundings. A slight turn brought him face to face with Lieutenant Payton, whose arms were folded and brows heavy.

“I do not require assistance for this task,” Data replied with what he hoped was politeness. It appeared the Chief had taken note of his lapse in working. Was she angry? Her facial expression seemed to match the description for anger; but then, her face typically matched the description for anger even in its resting state.

She gestured a four-fingered hand at the still-exposed layer of wiring. “I see. So you’ve discovered a new form of conducting repairs that involves staring at the wall for five minutes.”

Data blinked at the control panel beside him. It blinked back at him with red and white lights as if to question why he’d paused for so long in his repairs. It appeared Data had allowed his primary thought processing to overwhelm the subroutines that had been given the task of fixing the conduit. Or as a human might say, ‘lost in his thoughts’.

Had it been five minutes? A brief hum from his internal chronometer confirmed the allegation: five minutes and seven seconds, to be precise.

Data looked back at Lieutenant Payton. “No, sir. I was preoccupied. It will not happen again.”

Payton raised her eyebrows. “See that it doesn’t. I’m not a babysitter.” With that, she harrumphed away, and a few moments later, Data heard her barking voice chastising another crewmember for drinking a glass of water in the hallway outside the engine room, despite the fact that water was permitted out there. She was quite protective of the engineering wing.

Quietly, Data returned to his task. He thought he had overcome this processing issue when he had adjusted to life at Starfleet Academy, but since his posting on the _Trieste_ , he had experienced a few similar moments where his calculations would chase tangents that were not immediately relevant, often in search of a solution to a particularly perplexing problem. In this case, his inability to converse with others adequately.

Now that he directed his attention to completing the task, it was completed within a minute, and Data moved on to the next repair. In the background of his mind, he continued thinking about several other things at once, but eliminated any concerns of a social nature for the time being. He could think about that later.

Payton was not fond of senior staff meetings, ever, but the opportunity to see the captain was, admittedly, nice, since captains didn’t generally have reason to loiter about in engineering. Captain Walsh was a good man: frank and impossible to intimidate. That latter quality was probably how she’d ended up getting assigned to this ship in the first place. It seemed few Starfleet ships were willing to take on old, crusty, insubordinate engineers these days.

Walsh was, though. He’d even yelled at her a couple times. It was terrific.

It didn’t seem like there’d be reason for any yelling this meeting, though. Nothing was out of the ordinary; the ship was running smoothly, now that the repairs were done, and if Payton remembered right, their next assignment was a run-of-the-mill colony inspection.

She was considering taking a nap right there in her chair when something Commander Yamin said caught her attention. She leaned forward. “‘Scuse me. You said we’re heading for a Starbase?”

“That’s right,” said Yamin, raising an eyebrow. Prissy little pilot, wasn’t he?

Payton snapped her head towards the captain. “And _why_ wasn’t I told about this?”

An amused smile crossed the captain’s face, but it was the first officer who responded, sitting calmly at the captain’s right. “Lieutenant,” said Commander T’Lith, folding her hands in her lap, “Have you checked your comm messages at any point within the last two days?”

Payton was about to sputter something like, _Of_ course _I did, don’t be absurd_ —when she realized that she hadn’t in fact, done more than glance at the titles of the messages for the last week. She figured that if there was an emergency she needed to know about, either Red Alert or ship’s scuttlebug would tip her off. “A phone call would’ve been nice,” said Payton sweetly, but she subsided enough to sit back in her chair. “Anyhow—what for? We're due for a colony run, weren’t we?”

“Indeed,” confirmed T’Lith. “There was an incident. We are depositing three officers at the starbase, where they shall await reassignment.”

Huh. Now _that_ was odd. Why hadn’t she heard about this? One officer getting kicked off the ship was rare, but three was unheard of. “An incident? They take shore leave with Klingons or somethin'?”

She was expecting them to frown, maybe a subtle eye roll, but the pause that followed was uncomfortable, and the glances that flickered between the other senior officers almost made Payton think that there was some dispute between them about whatever had happened. _This oughta be good_ , she thought dryly.

After a moment, the captain answered. “Harassment of another officer. Not to mention intoxication while on duty, but that wasn't the point. I’m surprised you haven’t heard about it, to be honest.” There was something in his eyes, an edge that Payton didn’t quite understand yet.

She shifted in her seat, laying a forearm across the table. “Really? Harassment? On a Starfleet vessel?” This was the 24th century, for crying out loud, not the dark ages. “You’re right, it’s odd I hadn’t heard. Gossip like that makes its way around.”

The captain exchanged a look with T’Lith. “Payton, what I mean is that I’m surprised you haven’t heard about it…because it concerns one of your officers.”

Now _that_ got Payton’s attention.

One of _her_ officers, _her_ team, _her_ crew—involved in a harassment incident?

The implications were more than troubling—they were _infuriating_. She could barely imagine any one of her people even getting into a heated argument, much less a deliberate attack on someone else. Physical, emotional—it didn’t matter to Payton, an attack was an attack and that was utterly unacceptable. If one of _her_ officers had done something…

“Which officer?” she found herself asking, a hint of a snarl curling at her lip. The senior officers to her left and right had scooted away from her slightly, but she didn’t care. Her blood was boiling.

Again, that strange look. It was measuring, weighing, almost like how Walsh had looked at her when they’d first met. Like he wasn’t sure about her.

“Ensign Data,” he said quietly.

Hang on—

 _What_?

She couldn’t believe it. The quiet fella always hiding in the corner? Who kept shoving annoyingly brilliant suggestions down her throat even when she’d dropped every hint that he could just go ahead and _do_ them, she honestly didn’t care and to hades with regulation. The ensign who approached each and every interaction with the caution of a man defusing a dilithium bomb?

Maybe androids were more secretly aggressive than she’d thought, but it was almost impossible to imagine that _Ensign Data_ was capable of harassing anyone.

Payton’s mind raced, but she’d had enough practice keeping up a gruff exterior that she carefully schooled her features into disgruntlement and eased herself back into the chair. “Then why is he still on duty?”

The captain sighed and shrugged. “He insisted he was perfectly capable of returning to duty, so I let him.”

She frowned. “But, captain, if he’s guilty of—”

Then it hit her, and the truth was so painfully obvious, she had to resist the urge to slam her head into the table hard enough to leave a dent. Payton knew she could be dense at times, but this took the whole blasted cake. No wonder she hadn’t heard about this incident; she practically lived in engineering, and _Data_ practically lived in engineering, and of course no one was going to bring that kind of thing up when he was standing _right there_.

Data had been on the _other_ end of the harassment stick.

Payton’s blood began boiling again, this time for an entirely different reason. For all his uncanny quirks, Data was still under her command, a member of her engineering team, and therefore under her care. In a strange way, the fact that he _was_ a machine almost made him even more her responsibility. Payton was an engineer, through and through. If someone tried harming the _Trieste_ , they’d find out fast just how good a shot a four-fingered engineer could be.

Payton swore quietly under her breath.

“Commander?” asked T’Lith. Both she and the captain still had that peculiar look in their eyes, something almost guarded.

Payton pried her teeth apart to speak. “Could I get a copy of that report?”

Walsh studied her, and apparently he found whatever he was searching for, because he nodded. “Yes, that’d be in order. T’Lith?”

“Yes, captain.”

“Thanks,” growled Payton. Satisfied, she waved a hand in the air. “Proceed with the meeting.”

It took a minute, but the barrage of dull reports and minor concerns fell back into a steady rhythm, and the uncomfortable air brought on by the discussion of Data was dissipated. Payton didn’t hear a word of it, though. She was busy thinking about a certain yellow-eyed android who, now that she recalled, had spent the last few days being even more reclusive than usual.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not totally in love with how this turned out, but thought I'd post anyway. I'm trying to stay canon-compatible but if you catch any mistakes, feel free to let me know. Kudos and comments make my life. :D


End file.
